


Sympathy for the Devil

by vernie_klein



Series: Like the Heart Goes [21]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Becky Rosen is still creepy, Bobby can't get stabbed, Episode: s05e01 Sympathy for the Devil, I really hated that storyline, M/M, My John may have been an ass, No one knows what is happening off stage, Part Twenty One in the Series, The baddest grandma ever, The boys try to get naughty, but at least the boys had Maggie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 20:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7948318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vernie_klein/pseuds/vernie_klein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part Twenty-One in the Series</p><p>~The boys end up on a plane... Dean finds out about the Michael Sword... and why does the phone have to keep interrupting them?~</p><p> </p><p>  <i>This is the story of Sam and Dean Winchester. Not the story we've seen played out on our television screens a million times, but the story of what happened to get them to where they are today. The story of two brother's souls, so tightly woven together, that neither can be whole.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Sympathy for the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> I get why they put Bobby in a wheelchair... But it ain't happening here! Not beta'd all mistakes are mine to bear.

_Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. We are currently passing over Ilchester and beginning our decent into BWI Marshall. Please turn off all electronic devices, place your seatbacks and tray tables in the upright position, and observe the ‘fasten seatbelts’ sign. We should be arriving in approximately- Holy Shit!_

Sam shook his head at Dean and gestured to the bright light shooting out from the ground. “The Cage?”

“Probably.” Dean whispered, his tone panicked. His arms crossed over his body and he began rocking back and forth slightly. “How did- Where did-”

Sam patted his brother on the head. Cringing as he pulled his hand away, Sam thought hard about what would get his brother from sixty to zero. He wasn’t _exactly_ sure how to calm Dean in a situation like this. “Hum Metallica, dude.”

“What?” Dean’s eyes widened as the plane rocked further in the turbulence. His rocking increased as he began to whimper from the shaking.

The turbulence buffeted the plane. What had started as mild tremors turned into full on rocking. The plane dipped and righted, almost as if it was a carnival ride. Dean shot a hand out and latched, _hard_ onto Sam’s forearm. It hurt like a bitch- Sam wasn’t going to lie, but whatever Dean needed, he would give. Freely.

“Well… It’s worked before.” Sam threw his arms up in an exaggerated arc and began humming _Master of Puppets_. After a few bars, Dean began humming as well.

Sam continued and kept an eye on his brother’s posture. He calmed in stages. First, his death grip on Sam’s forearm lessened slightly. The next to go was the rigidness of his posture. It was subtle. Most people wouldn’t even notice. But, most people weren’t Sam. Dean finally quit tapping his foot. That was the last sign. Happiness flooded Sam. Dean wasn’t going to freak out and kill anyone. At least not today. Especially since whoever had placed them on that plane didn’t send them through Post-9/11 Security first. 

Sam could feel his pistol at the small of his back and the knife in his boot. He figured Dean had at least twelve weapons on him as he never travelled with less than that. “It’s okay...” He murmured. A few brief moments of calm had stilled the plane. Everyone had taken a deep sigh of relief, thinking the worst was behind them. Out of nowhere, another round of massive turbulence hit again, rocking the jet furiously from side to side. Sam gripped his brother tighter as the other passengers screamed.

Oxygen masks dropped from the overhead compartment. This was it. After everything that they had been through… All the things left unsaid between the two of them… God was fucked up if he thought taking them from the clutches of Lucifer and plunking them on a plane to die instead was a mercy.

Sam pursed his lips and pulled Dean toward him. He calmly placed his own oxygen mask over his head, remembering at the last second the flight manual he read last time they had flown. The slick plastic of the mask was oily and acrid in the back of his throat. He fumbled with the straps on Dean’s mask, trying and _failing_ to keep his brother quieted enough to slip the elastic over his head.

“Breathe, Dean.” Sam mumbled through the clear mouthpiece. Sam turned slightly from his brother and glanced out of the window. He wished he hadn’t. The column of light shooting up from St Mary’s Convent lit the sky as if it were midday. Waves of intense heat and vibration buffeted over the 737. 

“I can’t, Sammy-” 

“Shh, Dean. I got ya.” Sam held his brother in his arms, rocking the man back and forth in his seat. It didn’t matter that the plastic armrest divider was digging into Sam’s side. He could tune out the screams from the other passengers. If they _were_ going to die… He would do it in his brother’s embrace.

Sam spent the remainder of the flight in silence. He closed his eyes and prayed to every _Angel_ and God, thanking them for keeping his brother safe. Someone needed to fix what Sam had broken. He knew he wasn’t worthy. It would come down to Dean. It _always_ came down to Dean.

The moment the plane touched down and taxied in, Dean was gone. Sam did his best to keep up with his older brother. People parted like the Red Sea for the elder Winchester. He flitted between the passengers, a man on a mission. It was a sight to see. Dean had such a presence about him. He spoke of authority and confidence. Even with his _ridiculous_ bow-legs. Shoulders thrown back, head held high, Dean smiling when appropriate… Sam knew that while this may have been the truth while they were on a job, it wasn’t necessarily the case in his personal life.

“Dean! Dude, slow _down_!” Sam yelled. His brother was three hundred feet ahead and slipping away further.

“Baby, Sam. Baby.” As if that answered all the questions in the world. Dean flew out of the terminal doors and through the parking lot, his head on a swivel. “Ah! There she is!”

Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Only you, dude…” He muttered under his breath as he _finally_ caught up to his brother. He watched on as Dean gently ran a finger over Baby’s lines… He caressed his car as if he was making love to her. And, he probably was. Sam couldn’t make out _everything_ that he was whispering, but caught words like _Sweetheart_ , and _never again_ , _I’m sorry_ , and _Sam is too_. It brought a smile to Sam’s face that even after all the shit they put each other through, Sam was still thought of. 

“We gotta get to Chuck’s,” Dean stated. “Like yesterday.”

“Okay.” Sam shrugged and folded himself into the passenger seat of the Impala. He knew that they would need to discuss the _obvious_ elephant in the room. He had a lot to say to Dean _and_ he was sure that his brother had a lot to say in return. Sam was no Angel. _That much was a given._

**xXxXx**

Dean was silent. He _knew_ he needed to talk to Sam. _Shit_. There was a metric _fuck-ton_ of things they needed to talk about. The elephant in the room was the big one, but Dean didn’t know _how_ to talk to Sam. Not now. There were words that needed to be said, if only his lips could form them.

They were about a half hour away from Chuck’s when Dean pulled onto a gravel side road. He hoped the tiny rocks wouldn’t do _too much_ damage to the undercarriage as they pinged and ricocheted off the grey underbody. Dean turned toward his brother and grimaced, his face contorted in pain.

“Dean?” Sam raised an eyebrow. He looked tired. 

“Sam…. We need to-”

“I have things to say too.” Sam turned fully to face Dean, his left leg bending to tuck awkwardly under his right thigh.

“Let me go first, yeah?” Dean sighed and ran a hand through his dusty, blond hair. He waited patiently for Sam to nod. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

“Dean-”

“Please, Sam… Don’t interrupt me. Just-” Dean sighed. “This is hard enough as it is without you stopping me every five seconds to tell me…Well, whatever it is you want to tell me. I’m sorry that I blew up at you and told you to leave. You know that I never want that, right? You know that you’re the other half of me. It really feels like it. When you’re gone… It’s like someone went and ripped me in half. I couldn’t handle it when you ran away… I couldn’t handle it when you went to Stanford… I wanted to die, Sam. _Die_. I know that I was with Greg… but it never felt right. And I woulda split in a _second_ if you’da said those words. 

“This… I know that this is bigger than the both of us. I just don’t need you to feel that I’m not on your side. I wanna help you. No more secrets…. No more lies… It can’t work if we’re not on the same page. I _love_ you, Sam. You’re my brother… My _life_. No one should come between that. _No one_.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat. Dean felt like he was taking a million years to respond. He had no clue what was going on inside his brother’s head. “Then… Why? Just answer me. Why?”

“You gotta give me more than that, Sam. Why what?”

“The voicemail. You called me a monster, Dean.” Sam’s voice escalated in pitch until he was practically yelling. “I-” 

“I would _never_ , _ever_ call you a monster, Sam.” Dean lunged forward, his hands wrapping around Sam’s shoulders to pin him in place. “I told you I was sorry… That I loved you. I needed you. You’re not a monster, Sam. No matter how much Demon blood you drink down… No matter how many people you leave in your wake.”

Dean pulled his brother closer, moving Sam’s head to tuck against his shoulder. He would regret the position in the morning if they stayed like that for too long, but Sam _needed_ to hear what Dean had to say. He blinked back the tears that gathered in the corners of his eyes. Now was the time to stay strong, even if it was just for Sam’s sake. “ _Fuck_ , little brother. I’ve gone to Hell for you. I’ve killed and lied… Cheated, stole, _whored myself_ out for you… What makes you think that I would ever, _ever_ call you a monster?”

Tears wet the collar of Dean’s tee shirt, soaking the fabric and pooling on his skin. He ran a shaky hand through his brother’s chestnut hair and sighed. It was still soft and silky. Dean could spend hours running his fingers through Sam’s hair. When his brother was little it was the only thing that calmed him down. “Shhh…. Sammy, it’ll be okay. I’m here for you. I got ya. Let it all out, ‘kay?”

Sam nodded and sniffled against Dean. “Love you.”

“Love you too, ya fuckin’ sap.” Dean smiled. He pulled Sam away from his chest and looked in directly in the eyes. “I mean it when I say it’s me and you till the end, okay. We’re gonna do whatever it takes to ice the Devil and get him back in his box. We gotta start with Chuck, kay?”

Sam nodded and bit his bottom lip. He adjusted back into his seat and turned his head from Dean. 

“Good talk.” Dean chuckled and turned up AC/DC as he pulled back onto the main road.

**xXxXx**

They pulled away from Chuck’s house with no more knowledge then when they got there. Unless, you count the fact that Castiel was apparently blown to smithereens by an Archangel. Chuck couldn’t tell what was happening any more than those magicians in Sioux City could. Sam knew that his brother thought that Chuck held all the answers. Of course, he was disappointed as well that he didn’t… But, supposedly Chuck’s gift didn’t come when the Profit was stressed _and_ freaked out.

“Dean…” Sam shifted in his seat. He really didn’t want to start a war with his brother right now, but _this_ was inevitable. “We need to figure out what to do.”

“What we’re gonna do…” Dean grimaced as he pulled up to the stop sign at the edge of Chuck’s neighborhood. “…is get a motel room, do the laundry… and figure out what our next step is. _That’s_ what we’re gonna do.”

**xXxXx**

Sam sighed and threw his phone on the bed. He ran a hand through his lank hair and grimaced at the oily feeling left on his fingers. It had been four days since they left Chuck’s and holed up in this _shit box_ of a motel outside of Columbus. Sam knew it was time for a shower. The last few days had been rough- who the fuck was he kidding? The last few days had been literal Hell on Earth. He hadn’t slept. Between Ruby’s lies, Dean’s _now_ silenced mouth, Chuck’s disappointment, and Lucifer springing from the box…. _Yeah_. Literal Hell.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Dean grunted as he raised his head above the top of his laptop from the far bed.

“Nothing, Dean. Go back to your Porn.” Sam sighed and turned his attention back to the website he was reading. It was a shame that he was no closer to figuring out how to shut Lucifer back in the box than he had been four days earlier.

“Not watching Porn, you Fucker.” Dean smirked. He half sat up on the bed and winked as he shut the lid of his computer. “Why would I need to watch Porn when I’ve got you around? Figure you could give me a free show.”

“Why don’t you call Greg?” Sam snapped and rolled his eyes. When Dean was bored, he was a bear to deal with. “Bet he’s be willing to give you a little phone sex.”

“Greg’s at a Tattoo Convention in Atlanta. He’s working.” Dean sighed and flopped back on the bed dramatically executing his best impression of a three-year-old. 

“Then go hustle pool.”

“Not late enough.”

“Go find some pussy then.” Sam huffed.

“Don’t want a girl.” Dean countered.

“Then find a dick to suck.” Sam slammed his laptop lid down. He turned toward his brother giving him his best _Bitch-Face Twenty_ , the one that radiated pure evil. “Shit, Dean… Just _fuckin’_ do something.”

Sam’s fingers dug into his eye sockets as he buried his face in the palms of his hands. He heard Dean jump from the bed, the blanket hitting the dirty floor. 

“Sammy…” Dean carded his callous fingers through Sam’s greasy hair. “Baby… Shhh… Gotta tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s just….” Sam sighed.

“Why don’t you go lay down?” Dean kissed the top of Sam’s head. It couldn’t have tasted good. “I’m gonna call Bobby. You’re probably detoxing. Gotta get you some place safe.”

Sam stood and made his way over to his bed. He flopped on the covers, pulling his pillow down to make himself comfy. Motel pillows were never comfortable, but Dean had gone out and bought Sam one of those special memory foam pillows. They helped the headaches that had come with his visions. It was a shame that it was covered in a Tinkerbell pillow case. Sam had been meaning to replace the case the last time they were at Wal-Mart, but he knew it made Dean giddy on the inside every time he spied the fabric in the back seat. He heard Dean fumble in his front pocket for his cell and snorted when his brother dropped the flip phone on the floor.

“Hello, Bobby?” Dean began to pace. “I think it’s time to bring him in… Yeah… No… I don’t think he’ll run now. Ruby’s _dead_ , Bobby. I killed her. How many times do I hafta tell you that? I’ll stay with him... Yeah… Not outta my sight… Might take us a day or two… We’ll leave now… Yeah? See you in a few. Okay… Bye, Bobby.”

Sam heard Dean’s phone click closed and sighed as Dean climbed into bed in front of him, the comforter from Dean’s own bed trailing behind. Lately he wondered if Dean would even acknowledge his presence, let alone sleep in the same bed as him. Even if it _was_ just a nap.

“Budge up, Bitch.” Dean pushed Sam over to his side and snuggled in front of him, the blanket landing in a heap over them both. “Bobby says he’ll help. Means you’re back in the Panic Room though. Don’t worry, I’ll-”

“Not worried, Dean.” Sam whispered in Dean’s hair. He inhaled deeply and sighed at the smell of Old Spice and Irish Spring soap. Dean snuggled back into him, the last words Dean said filtering through his brain as he fell asleep. _Love you, baby boy._

**xXxXx**

Sam woke with a start. The first thing he noticed was that it was dark outside. He couldn’t believe that he had been asleep for over twelve hours. There was _no_ way. A snore interrupted his musing. Dean was snuggled against Sam’s side. He wondered when his brother had found time to strip them both down to their boxers.

“Dean?” Sam whispered, poking his brother lightly in the arm.

Dean huffed out a _what?_ and pushed Sam to the bed. Dean was never the one to initiate the _octopus_ as he liked to call it. Sam narrowed his eyes and glanced around the room _trying_ to take in the details. It was a trick that Dean had taught him when it came to his visions. It was always important to separate reality from fiction. Sam closed his eyes and created a mental picture of their motel room as it stood when he fell asleep. His eidetic memory was good for _something_. 

The bed linens were nicer than what they were used to, soft and light grey above and below him. The bed- a king, graced the center of a large room. He _knew_ without a doubt that they had been in a double. This was _obviously_ a dream. A wing-backed chair materialized from thin air. His brother disappeared from the bed and a clapping noise could be heard echoing through the chamber.

“Bravo… Bravo, Sam.” A man blinked into existence in the chair. “You figured it out sooner than most.”

“Who are you?” Sam scowled at the older man. He was tall. That much Sam could tell from the way he was practically _folded_ in the chair. He was also someone that wouldn’t stick out in a crowd. The kind of guy that you would never think to look at twice. Sam sucked in a breath and bit his lip. This could be dangerous.

“Now… That would be too _easy_.” The man smiled. “But… You can call me-”

“How about you tell me who you _really_ are and why you’re here?” 

“Sam…” The man moved to stand. Sam followed him with his eyes as the blond-haired man moved to stand in front of a window that moments ago- wasn’t there. _Definitely_ dangerous. Sam knew that he had to tread lightly and remember _everything_ he could about this conversation. “What are you afraid of the most?”

Sam narrowed his eyes as he balled his hands into fists under the covers. This guy was going a _great_ job at making him furious. “I- I’m not-”

“Don’t lie to me. I’m in your brain, Sam. I know your _deepest_ , _darkest_ fears. How the one thing you fear the most is old Dean-O leaving you. But… not for some _pretty_ , _young_ , brunette… But _Greg_. That he will realise that it’s too difficult to have you as a crutch. That _Greg_ and his _perfect_ world, and his _perfect_ life will be _exactly_ what he wants.” He leaned in tight to Sam’s face, hot breath ghosting on Sam’s cheeks. It smelled like _ice_ and _brimstone_. “And he will, Sam. He’ll leave you.”

Sam stood abruptly and shook his head. “No… That’s where you’re wrong. Dean will _never_ leave me. _Never_. You’ve got it all wrong…. _Lucifer_.”

“Ah, ah, ah…” Lucifer chuckled. “You’re a smart one there, Sammy. What gave it away?”

“Brimstone. Even in a dream you can’t get rid of the smell of Brimstone.” Sam smiled smugly.

“You’ll see…” Lucifer smiled. “You’ll see.”

Sam woke with a start. The sun shone brightly on his face, temporarily blinding him. He rubbed his scarred knuckles over his eyes, blinking away the sleep. Moaning, Sam leaned over his _dead to the world_ brother to get a good look at the clock. _12:06_. Thankfully they hadn’t slept the day away. He didn’t want to get up. Dean was warm and pliant at his side. Something that Sam didn’t get to enjoy much as of late. He knew _that_ was his own fault. He should have told Dean about Ruby sooner. Should have listened to his brother, the voice of reason as he whispered in his ear. Instead he chose to listen to the snake in the garden and looked where it got him. Naked and alone. A broken world at his feet. His eyes may have been opened to the truth… But the cost was too great.

“Dean.” Sam shoved at his brother’s side. “Dude… _Wake up_. We gotta get going to Bobby’s.”

“Wanna sleep. Come cuddle.” Dean groaned and rolled over, shoving Sam’s hand down the front of his jeans.

Sam pulled his hand back and smacked Dean _hard_ on the way by. “Jerk… I am not jacking you off. That is _not_ fair cuddle currency.”

Dean sat up groaning and ran a hand through his hair. It was obvious that he needed to shower when crusty gel fell from his messy spikes. He scoffed, trying to look tough. It just made him look goofy. “ _Cuddle currency_? Sam… what are you? Twelve?”

“Fuck you.” Sam made to stand and head to the bathroom to grab a much needed shower.

“If you ask nicely… I just might.” Dean puckered his lips and blew Sam a kiss. He narrowed his eyes as Dean palmed his _now_ semi-hard cock through his jeans.

Sam smiled and sashed his way his way across the room, sticking his ass out as far as he could before shutting the bathroom door. He laughed as Dean’s voice carried the word _tease_ through the thin particle board.

**xXxXx**

Dean loaded the remainder of their stuff into the trunk of the Impala and all but pushed Sam into the backseat for the start of their trip to Bobby’s. “Get comfy back there, Sammy. I’m not stopping til we’ve made it at least to Sully.”

“Can’t skip out on pie, can ya?” Sam snorted from the backseat, Dean’s pillow tucked firmly under his head.

Dean through Sam’s blanket back to him and put on side one of Zep II. He turned the sound down and hummed along to What is and What Should Be. “Get some rest, yeah?”

“I will Dean. Promise.” Sam sighed back.

Dean drove, the miles churning by under Baby’s tires. He stopped for gas in Normal, Illinois, a little mom and pop shop just off Interstate 74. It would be another four hours or so before they got to their destination. Dean figured they _could_ just drive the seven hours to Bobby’s. That would put them there in the middle of the night, but Dean had other plans. There was someone near and dear he wanted to check on first.

Baby rolled gently into the spot in front of the Motel Office. It was a little nicer than they normally stayed at, but it was always worth it. This particular motel had gone through a small renovation since the last time Dean had come through five years ago. He had taken a detour on his way to get Sam from school. It hadn’t mattered that Sully was 400 miles out of his way. This motel had seen the Winchester’s grow up. If there was any place besides Bobby’s that he could have called home as a child, this was it. Dean spied the owner behind the desk. _Good_. They didn’t have to worry about answering too many questions.

Dean stepped from the car and made his way quietly to the door. The bell rang as he entered the office and deeply inhaled the scent of clove cigarettes and nag champa incense. 

“Dean!” The elderly lady behind the counter yelled as she stood from the recliner positioned in front of the tv behind the desk.

“Maggie.” Dean spread his arms wide to accept the bracing hug from his favourite motel _grandmother_. “It’s been a while.”

“Five years is five years too long, Mr Winchester. Now… Where is that _handsome_ devil of a brother you’ve been travelling with? I haven’t seen him since he ran off to join the circus, or whatever they call college nowadays.”

Dean kissed Maggie on the cheek and stepped back, gesturing to the door. He had wanted to tell her Sam was asleep, but just as he went to open his mouth, the gigantic moose of a man walked through the door.

“Maggie?” Sam enquired as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stared at the floor.

“Samuel John Winchester… Is that really you?” Maggie stepped up to the younger Winchester and grinned, eyeballing the tall man from his floppy hair to his scuffed up suede boots.

“In the flesh, Maggie.” Sam raised his arms and turned in a circle. “I think I may have grown a little since the last time you saw me.”

“A little? Sam… You’ve become _gigantic_!” Maggie pulled Dean’s brother into a bone crushing hug. Dean felt for him as she squeezed with all her might. “I’ve missed you, sweetie.”

Sam leaned his head down and buried his nose in Maggie’s silver streaked hair. Dean watched on as he inhaled her sweet scent. He could tell that Sam was trying to hold back tears. “Missed you too, Mags.”

Maggie pulled back and gestured the boys to her space behind the office. “Come in for a cuppa, yeah? We need to catch up.”

Dean nodded and held out a hand to let Sam go first. He may have not seen Maggie for five years, but he talked to her last a few months ago. As far as Dean knew, Sam hadn’t spoken to Maggie in almost eight years. He followed behind his brother and Maggie, taking in the handmade quilt draped over the brand new recliner. Everything looked updated and well taken care of.

“Business good?” Dean sat down in the proffered chair and kicked his feet out to relax.

“Better than lately. The reno brought me into the twenty-first century and one of the grandkids got wifi and satellite tv in every room. There’s this thing called Netflix that is supposed to have some kind of streaming service… We are gonna check it out soon. Or as soon as my DSL gets upgraded. Talked to the phone company last week.” Maggie sighed. “It’s hard though without David. But I make due.”

Sam laid a hand on Maggie’s shoulder and flopped onto the couch next to her. “When did-”

“A year or so ago. I miss him. He was _so_ sick, Sam. Between the cancer and the possession, he-”

“Wait. What?” Dean leaned forward.

“Didn’t Bobby tell you nothin’, boy?” Maggie sighed. “Rufus came by and took care of it on Bobby’s orders. Bobby was working on a case for you two and he couldn’t make it. You were in Alabama working on a rugaru and I knew there was no way you could make it in time. The cancer made him weak. The Demon? Weaker still. I had thought that it would have killed him. Possession is no fun matter apparently.”

“We know.” Sam deadpanned.

“That’s a story I may want later.” Maggie continued. “I called Bobby… He called Rufus… Rufus came out and did the exorcism. David lasted another five months before the cancer took him.”

“How did you know?” Dean placed a hand on Maggie’s knee and squeezed.

“Salt in the paint and across the entryways. When we did the remodel, Bobby and Greg came and took care of everything for me. There is salt and iron in every room. I had Greg bring up Goofer dust and hoodoo herbs and they are laid in the doorways and windows. Every Hunter that passes through has safe sleeping here. No need to waste your own supplies when I can protect you lot.”

“Greg was here?” Sam questioned. 

“Yes. And he informed me about you, little Sammy Winchester. Told me you turned into a _tall_ drink o’ water.” Maggie turned to face Sam. “Greg said that you were back for good with your brother. You gonna stay there? Not leave him to run off and chase what you don’t need? When what you _do_ need is sitting in that chair right there?”

Sam nodded and bit his bottom lip. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I told your daddy that you two shouldn’t be separated. He’s the one that fucked that up Sam, not you.” Maggie turned toward Dean. “And you. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a _thousand_ times that you needed to cut your baby brother some slack. He never wanted to leave you… That much was obvious. I could see it in every move that boy made around you.”

“Still here, Maggie.” Sam chided as Dean’s face turned brighter red as he tried _and failed_ to hide the blush of embarrassment. 

“You hush.” Maggie shook her head. “Now… Things better be good between you two. I’ve heard murmurs and rumours that they weren’t. You on your way to Bobby’s?”

Dean cleared his throat and put on his best smile. It didn’t matter that it wouldn’t fool Maggie. It was for _him_. “Yes’m. Gotta place for us to stay tonight?”

“Oh… I don’t know. Thinking ‘bout turning on that _No Vacancy_ sign and running away to Vegas.” Maggie scoffed. “Whata ya think, boy? There are four cars in the parking lot. That big black beauty of yours makes five. So yes, I have room. King work?”

Dean could tell Sam was going to request two queens. “King works perfectly. Thank you.”

“Good. There are shelves in the closet for all your gear. Every room has a washer and dryer.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. 

“David had a healthy insurance policy. Millions of dollars goes a long way to make sure Hunters and their kin are taken care of. They _know_ this is a safe place. You should know it too.”

“We’ve always known that, Maggie.” Dean smiled. “Even before the salt and iron and _laundry_ facilities…”

“Sam… Why don’t you go drive the car over to room 615.” Maggie threw the key to the room, Sam plucking it out of the air deftly. “I need to have a little _talk_ with your brother.”

“10-4, ma’am.” Sam smiled and stood. “See you for breakfast?”

“You know it. We’ll go over to Coffee Cup together. I _may_ have to give Selena a call. Have her make you and your brother a few to go.”

“That’d be mighty nice of you, Mags. See you in the morning.” Sam exited the office, the little bell tinging as it closed tight.

Maggie turned fully toward Dean, the smile and ease she displayed a moment ago gone. “You, young man are going to spill and you are going to spill _now_. I know I ain’t your momma… And I ain’t Ellen… But if you don’t open your mouth in the next thirty seconds, I will whoop your ass.”

Dean held his hands up in surrender. “What did Greg tell you?”

“That I should be asking you what’s going on.” Maggie steeled her eyes. Dean felt as if they were glaring directly at his soul. “Now talk.”

 

Dean grimaced. “He broke the world, Maggie. Drank Demon blood, consorted with Demons, let _Lucifer_ out of the Cage… Now, I gotta find a way to ice the Devil and pop him back in his box… all while saving my baby brother. My soul… _That’s_ what’s going on.”

“Shit.” Maggie leaned back further in her chair. “You gotta plan?”

“We’re headed to Bobby’s to detox Sam. From there? I don’t know. Guess I gotta get more information about all of this. The Angels are no help. Cas-”

Maggie snorted. “Like those meddling Angels would do anything to help anyway. Bobby thought that maybe we could get some warding up round here for them. Didn’t think it _prudent_ to be allowing any of them on the property. Greg got on that real quick and warded everything. That Angel of yours- Castiel… He showed up with some other uptight _prick_ of an Angel… I can’t remember his name…”

“Zachariah?” Dean supplied.

“Yes, that’s it. Zachariah.” Maggie shook her head. “Started talking about how the end days were here and how you went and tried to ruin everything. Something about Michael and a Holy Sword… I’m getting up there in age, can’t remember _everything_. Said something about how it was important that I tell ya’ll to say _yes_ when the time comes.”

Dean leaned forward, as close to Maggie’s face as he dared. He whispered. “What did you tell them?”

Maggie leaned forward and smiled. Her nose touched Dean’s in a gesture he recalled from days past. A way to connect. She opened her mouth to laugh, and Dean wanted to laugh with her. The sound that left her body filled the room. It was light, a refreshing laugh that lifted the heaviness in Dean’s heart. She leaned back against the chair and held onto her sides. Dean figured she had a stitch from the movement. It was minutes before Maggie calmed. And when she did she smiled.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“I told the fuckers to get tossed.” Maggie chuckled, the last of her laughter leaving her body. “Told them the warding was done. All I had to do was step back through the threshold and they would be left behind. Greg was smug as a bug, that one. Took one look at that Angel friend of yours and whispered, _he’s mine_. Don’t recon he told you that, did he?”

“No, ma’am. Greg didn’t even tell me he was here.” Dean sat back up straight and looked around the room. He spied treasures from all of the times that the Winchesters had stayed here as children. There was even a baseball from Dean’s first game when he was seven and they stayed two months with Maggie at the motel while John was with Bobby on a hunt. There was a picture of Sam and him from when Sam was in High School. He also made out a picture of him and Greg. “Did he give that to you?”

Maggie smiled and followed Dean’s pointing. “He did. It was about four or five months after your daddy done went and dragged your ass away from him. Didn’t know at the time that you two had been involved. Got his number off a Hunter came through I didn’t know. Needed to be vetted. Said this _Greg Lubois_ fella could recommend him. I called Greg, asked who died and made him the _King of the Hunting World_. He said no one. That you lived with him, Bobby trusted his research… And, if I felt that I needed to vet him, I could call you or Bobby. He told me not to trust the fucker came in my motel any further than I could throw him, but that he was a Hunter. Passing through on a trip to Elkins’ place in Colorado… Shame that he died, that Daniel. Good man. 

Anyway, I gave the guy a room and kicked him out the next morning. Told him I wasn’t a charity. If he needed supplies he could go see the apothecary the next town over. But you bet your _ass_ I called Bobby Singer ‘bout that young man of yours. Told him there was no way that was possible. Four days later I had that picture in my possession. Figured Bobby musta told him to send it. He brought a few more up for me when he came to help with the reno. Never did see two people more in love.”

“Yeah.” Dean sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. “I miss him, but I talk to him all the time. Sam does too.”

“The only time I’ve seen a love purer than that? I was looking at you… Looking at Sam.” Maggie crossed her legs and pulled a cigarette out of the silver case next to her chair. She offered Dean one as well. 

“Never say no to one of the best hand-rolled cigarettes I’ll ever smoke.” Dean lit the tip and took a deep drag. “These are good, Mag.”

“Are you gonna keep ignoring the elephant in the room, Dean?” Maggie tapped the ash from her smoke into her crystal ashtray. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Mags.” Dean took another drag and shot out four perfect smoke rings. 

“Don’t you _dare_ parlour trick me, Dean Michael Winchester. I was distracting and redirecting before your daddy was even born.” Maggie set her cigarette on the rest of the ashtray. “You’d better talk to him.”

“I _will_. It’s just- I have- I can talk to Greg just fine about _feelings_ and _girl-crap_. But with Sam? It’s like he’s gunna be so _disappointed_ in me.”

“He looks at you like you hung the moon.” Maggie reached down to the bottom of her chair-side table. She pulled up a bottle of Jameson and two crystal glasses. Dean nodded as Maggie poured the amber liquid into the glass and passed it over, taking a _healthy_ swallow of her own before speaking. “Greg wasn’t kidding. That boy is head over heels in love with you.”

“He’s my brother.” Dean growled. He didn’t like where this conversation was going. It made him think back to what Zachariah told him after the whole Sandover _debacle_. 

“Do you think what you two get up to behind closed doors is anyone’s concern but your own?” Maggie shook her head. “You are just as _stubborn_ , just as _pig-headed_ as Bobby and Greg told me. I didn’t want to believe them, but it’s true. Can’t see the _one good thing_ in your life right in front of your face. You’d let everything go to shit just to deny it too, wouldn’t you?”

“He doesn’t want me, Maggie.” Dean moved to hide his face in his hands. He blinked back the hot tears that threatened to spill on his palms. He _wasn’t_ going to cry. Not in front of Maggie. “After all that’s been said… After all that’s been _done_ … I can’t put him through knowing that. He’ll leave. I _know_ he says he won’t; but, he doesn’t _really_ know. Once I say it…. Once it’s out there… It’s the _Point of No Return_ , Maggie. I can’t risk that.”

Dean felt Maggie’s arms wrap around him. She was tall, almost as tall as Dean himself, but a willow wisp of a woman. She smelled of whisky and cloves, the nag champa incense that she always burned, and cotton. Dean shuddered as Maggie wrapped herself further around him and pulled his head into the crook of her neck. “It’s okay, love. Let me take care of everything.”

Maggie outlined her plan to an attentive Dean. He really didn’t think it would work, but everything was worth a shot when it came to his Sammy. He left the office and took off toward their room, a basket of items in his arms. He figured that Sam had been left alone for at least a few hours. At least Sam knew where he was and wouldn’t be worried.

**xXxXx**

“Oh, Sammy….” Dean called in a sing-song voice as he walked through the motel room door. “I’m ho-ome.”

Sam called out from the kitchenette attached to the back half of the room. “Dude, what took you so long? I’m starving. We need to go find some food.”

“Well, hello to you too.” Dean rolled his eyes and chuckled. He leaned back, pushing the door closed with the toe of his boot before turning around and locking the door one-handed. Dean set his basket on the table and lifted out a few bags full of take away containers. He smiled and began setting the table by the window. Maggie had thought of everything, including beer.

“Dean.” Sam stalked across the room. “What’s? How’d?”

Dean smiled. He motioned to his brother to sit down at the table. Silver cutlery was placed in front of the Hunter and Dean dished out the home-style meal that Maggie had delivered. Fish, roasted baby potatoes mixed with beets and carrots, as well as asparagus were plated. Dean opened a container of mixed greens salad with shaved parmigiana cheese and balsamic dressing. He knew that Sam would love the healthy fair. _He_ had wanted a steak… But this? This was all about Sam. Dean sat down in his own seat and dished a plate of food. It _did_ look good, even if it wasn’t his ideal meal.

“Well… Eat, Sam.” Dean groused from his seat. He picked up his knife and fork and remembered Maggie’s words to not eat like a heathen.

Sam took a few bites of each food before setting down his silverware and wiping his mouth with a _real_ linen napkin. “This is excellent, Dean. Where did Maggie drum it up?”

“Some café in town. Not Coffee Cup obviously, but a little fancy corner place. They’re French, I think. Anyway… I knew you’d want something other than diner food for supper, so Maggie suggested.” Dean popped the top to a beer and handed it to Sam.

“What, no wine?” Sam smiled as he accepted the brown bottle. 

Dean raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “I’m a _heathen_ , Sam. Not a refined bone in my body. I wanted steak and mashed potatoes. But here I am eating fish and asparagus. So… You tell me why there’s no wine.”

Sam laughed. Dean loved his brother’s laugh. It was youthful and full of life. Almost as if the weight of the world wasn’t on his shoulders. “What’s the occasion?”

“Can’t a guy seduce his own brother?”

Sam choked on his beer, his eyes dilating. Dean rushed up and patted Sam on the back a few times until he could breathe again. “So… That is what this is all about? The King Room? Fancy dinner? You’re trying to _seduce_ me?”

Dean backed away sputtering, his hands and head shaking _no_ as he tried to back further and further away from his brother. He wasn’t expecting the hand that snatched him and pulled him onto Sam’s lap.

“Dean….” Sam whispered as he pulled him closer. One single finger trailed down the side of Dean’s bicep. A full body shiver accompanied the gesture. “You had me at _hello_.”

**xXxXx**

Sam rose from his chair, his arms wrapped tightly around his brother. 

“I’m not-” Dean squawked.

“No one said you were, Dean.” Sam smiled and pulled Dean’s leg around his slim hips. “You’re gonna shut up and _fuck_ me.”

Sam smiled as Dean scrunched his face. He walked toward the bed and gently lowered the older man down on the comforter. “Now… do I have to ask?”

Dean shook his head as he wrapped his fist around the front of Sam’s flannel. He yanked Sam down- hard as _finally_ their lips met in a kiss Sam would remember always. Dean’s lips were petal soft parted willingly when Sam snuck a tentative lick in. There was no heat or frenzy in their kiss. They didn’t battle for dominance or suck each other’s faces. Sam marvelled at the love and affection Dean poured into the act.

He pulled his brother’s tee up and slid a calloused hand over the slight pudge. Sam knew Dean was self-conscious… But not tonight. He wouldn’t let him. Nimble fingers pulled at his buckle as Sam thrust his hips down. His back pocket vibrated.

“Fuck…” 

“That’s the idea, Dean.” Sam sighed as he assaulted his brother’s ear lobe with his teeth. He rolled his eyes as the ringing in his pocket amplified. 

“Sam…”

“No. I don’t care _who_ it is,” Sam groaned. “It could be _Lucifer_ himself and I wouldn’t stop what I’ve wanted all my life.”

“Sammy.” Dean shoved up at Sam. “Baby… I’d… You’ve _gotta_ …”

Sam flopped off Dean in a huff, his chest heaving from pushing down the sheer _want_. His fingers dug into his back pocket as the ringing continued. Sam stabbed at the screen not even looking to see who it could be.

“This had better be good. I was just in the middle of-” Sam stopped abruptly, almost giving away the fact that he was trying to have sex with his _brother_.

 _Answer your door._ The phone hung up, no other words spoken.

Sam pulled the device from his ear and stared. He scrunched his brow, shaking his head as Dean sat up and adjusted his shirt.

“Who?”

“Dunno. They just said to-” 

A knock on the door interrupted Sam from his rumination, the staccato rap turning frenzied the longer he let it go. He rose slowly from the bed, buckling his belt as he advanced hesitantly toward the door. 

“Hello?” Sam called out as he opened the heavy iron-lined door a few inches.

The door flew from his hand, shoved open by a petite woman who appeared to be having an asthma attack. “Are- are you okay, lady?” Sam raised an eyebrow and glanced back at his brother. Dean shrugged and motioned to the salt and iron at the egress.

“Sam… is it really you?” The woman advanced toward him, eyes wide with disbelief. “I _knew_ you were real… I just couldn’t…” She ran a tiny hand up Sam’s chest and squeezed his pectoral muscle.

“Uh, do I know you?” Sam huffed as he attempted to pull back from the assault.

“No… But, you’re Sam Winchester and you’re-” The woman peered around Sam at Dean and scoffed. “-not what I pictured.”

“Hey!” Dean interjected.

The woman pushed at Sam’s chest and waltzed into the room as if she owned the place. Sam watched on as the nervousness she had exhibited when walking into the room disappeared. “I’ve read all about you guys. I’ve even written a few- Anyway,” She shook her head. “I’m Becky. Mr Edlund-”

“Chuck?” Dean stood from the bed and advanced toward the blonde. Sam shook his head and closed the door. Even though they were safe at Maggie’s, he still wasn’t going to take that chance.

“He had a message for the two of you. Cryptic at best, but since he’s _apparently_ being watched by Angels, nice change up with the Mythology there, he felt the need to send someone else. He-”

“The message?” Dean groused, his hostile tone echoed by the narrowing of his eyes. Sam _knew_ Dean was hiding his knife behind his back.

Becky rolled her eyes and tsked. “He had a vision… ‘The Michael Sword is on Earth. The Angels lost it. It’s in a castle, on a hill made of forty-two dogs.’” 

“Um… Becky, are you _sure_ that’s correct?” Sam raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

Becky advanced on Sam like a coyote on a wounded, almost dead deer. “It doesn’t make sense…” Her voice dropped- low and husky. “…but that’s what he said.”

Sam stepped back and sighed as Dean’s hard front hit his back. He melted into his brother’s body, Dean’s hands sliding up to tighten around his waist.

“I memorised every word.” Becky ran a finger up the buttons on Sam’s flannel pausing at the hollow of his throat. “For you.”

Sam swallowed as Dean’s hands squeezed- hard, biting into the flesh above his waistband. “Um…Becky? C- could you stop touching me… _please_?”

Becky shook her head, he blond hair swishing around the top of her shoulders. Sam cringed back into Dean as Becky pressed the length of her body against his. He fought to keep his hands from automatically circling her to keep the woman upright. At the last second, they diverted to encase Deans. 

“No.” Becky sighed, a whimper leaving her lips as she reached up on her tip toes. 

Sam’s eyes widened as Becky came in for the kill. There was _no way_ this was going to happen. He turned his head toward Dean’s and cried out as Dean pushed his way in front of him.

“Don’t you think for one minute that you can touch my brother without his permission.” Dean growled, the Alpha Male showing through. “Thank you for the information, _Becky_ -” 

“I get it.” Becky backed slowly toward the door. “I _knew_ I wasn’t reading into things.” 

“What?”

Becky pulled the door open. Sam could see that she was less nervous and more _giddy_ at Dean’s words. The door closed behind the petite blonde with a snick and Sam slumped onto the bed, his head in his hands.

“Sammy…” Dean sat down next to him and pulled Sam into a tight embrace by the shoulders. “I- That’s-”

“Creepy?” Sam looked up, his eyes roving over every inch of Dean’s sun kissed face. He leaned forward, tentatively slotting his mouth against his brothers. He broke the kiss, sweet and soft- exactly how he needed it in that moment, and buried his face into Dean’s collar, the smell of leather and gun oil permeating his senses.

“It’s okay, baby boy… I’ve got you.”

**xXxXx**

The Impala turned onto the long gravel driveway leading to house, pausing momentarily at the chain-link fence to open and close the gate. Dean winced as the tiny rocks buffeted the undercarriage of his baby. They pulled in front of the house, pulling up right in front of the door. Dean snagged his duffel and the paper sack of pies from Coffee Cup out of the back seat and sauntered toward Bobby’s front door.

“Hey, old man!” Dean yelled as he pulled open the screen door.

“In here!” Bobby hollered back as Dean held the flimsy mesh and wooden door for his brother.

Dean handed his bag to Sam and headed toward the study. “Brought you some pie…” Dean set the bag on the only clear spot on Bobby’s desk.

“You guys weren’t followed, were you?” Bobby glanced up from the _gigantic_ tome he was perusing.

“Well, I was worried we would have to shake off Sam’s _superfan_ … But luckily, no. It is quite a few hours from Sully to here. They would have had to have been _pretty_ persistent.” Dean chuckled.

“So… Sam says the _Sword of Michael_ , huh?” Bobby pushed the book he had in front of Dean.

“You think they’re talking about the _actual_ sword? Like Archangel shit?” Dean shook his head. “Last year if you woulda told me Angels were real… I woulda had you committed.”

Bobby flipped the page to a painting of Michael surrounded by Angels, the Michael sword pointed at a cowering Lucifer’s head. “That’s Michael. He’s the toughest son of a bitch they got.” Bobby turned the to the next page.

“Slow your roll there, Chief. That looks like Cate Blanchett.” Dean scoffed at the feminine Michael.

“Well, he’s the one that commands the Heavenly Host, last dust-up upstairs, he booted Lucifer into the Cage.” Bobby pointed back towards the picture. “With _that_ sword.”

“Well… so where do we go from here?” Sam picked a book up from the stack leaning precariously over the edge.

“Time to make sense of all of Chuck’s madness.” Bobby shook his head and handed a book to Dean.

**xXxXx**

“Bobby. I’m so sorry.” Sam sighed as he ran a shaky hand through his hair. He pushed the book aside and took a drink from his beer.

“What’re ya yapping about, boy?” Bobby scowled.

I killed her. I killed her, broke the last seal and set Lucifer free. This is all-”

“Sam.” Dean warned.

“No Dean. You warned me about the Demon blood, about Ruby… All of it. And I didn’t listen. If I was you? I’d be _pissed_ right now.” Sam clenched his teeth as his arms crossed in front of his chest. “I. Set. Lucifer. Free. What part of that don’t you understand, Bobby?”

“And I think it’s time for the _special room_.” Dean turned toward Bobby as he stood and moved in front of Sam. “Thanks for the history lesson, but Sammy here needs some sleep.”

Dean pushed Sam toward the stairs. “We’ll see you in the morning, Bobby. Com’on, Princess… Time to get some beauty sleep.”

“Dean…” Sam groused. “I _am_ capable of walking downstairs and sleeping.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean twisted his fingers in the back of Sam’s overshirt. “But, I promised Bobby I wouldn’t leave ya. And I’m not gunna either. You’re stuck with me, kiddo.”

“Dean…” Sam whined. He stepped off the bottom stair and turned toward his older brother. “I want-”

Dean stepped into Sam’s space. “Shh… I know what you want, baby boy… Promise I’ll give it to you.”

“Yeah?” Sam ran a shaky finger down Dean’s cheek. He cupped his brother’s chin and leaned further forward, their lips barely touching. Sam gasped as Dean wrapped his arms around his chest and pulled him closer, their tongues battling for dominance.

Sam felt himself grow hard, his heavy cock pressing painfully on the zipper of his jeans. “Dean…”

“Sammy…” Dean moaned. “We gotta- It’s- You’re-”

“Dean-” Sam pressed his brother against the frame of the stairs. His hand snaking down to undo the belt Dean _insisted_ on wearing. “Can we?”

Dean’s pocket began to vibrate seconds before _Paint it Black_ began playing. Sam pulled his hands back and grumbled. “Dean…”

“God-damned son of a _Bitch_!” Dean snapped. He pulled the phone from his front pocket and thumbed the answer button, accidently putting it on speaker. “What?”

_Dean?_

“Fuck, Ellen. Kindofa bad time here…”

_Just wanted to make sure that you boys were safe. Bad shit is happening all over the news._

Dean ran a hand through his hair, stopping to scratch the back of his neck. Sam raised an eyebrow at Ellen’s voice.

“We’re okay, Ellen.” Sam pipped up. “Just headed to bed. Made it to Bobby’s okay.”

_That’s damn good news, boy. Call me in the morning, you hear?_

“Will do, Ellen.” Dean interjected. “Talk to you then.”

Sam pulled the phone from Dean’s hand and turned it off. “Come on, Dean. Bed is calling.”

Dean grabbed Sam by the hand and pulled him into the panic room. He didn’t bother shutting the door behind him knowing that only Bobby would be able to get through. Sam stripped down to his boxers and waited patiently on the edge of the mattress Bobby had _obviously_ brought in to fit the two of them. He watched through his bangs as Dean took his time pulling and pushing his layers off.

“Like what you see, Sammy boy?” Dean sauntered toward the bed and pulled Sam vertical, spooning him from behind. He snaked his hand down the flat planes of Sam’s stomach and teased the sparse hair above the waistband of his boxers. 

Sam gasped as he intertwined their fingers, Dean’s callouses pulling on his sensitive flesh as he rubbed the skin back and forth. His heart thumped faster, pounding his ribcage as the hair on his arm stood on end. Dean’s hand stilled. 

“Dean?” Sam whispered. Sam pushed back into his brother and chuckled at the snore that emanated from Dean’s mouth. “Just my luck.”

Sam pulled the blanket over the two of them and snuggled down into his brother’s arm to sleep.

**xXxXx**

“That’s it!” Dean hollered as he dug through his ruck. “Shit, I _knew_ I’d seen it somewhere…”

“Seen what?” Bobby yelled back from the stove where he was _instructing_ Sam on the finer points of fried eggs.

“Yahtzee!” Dean fisted the baggie of business cards, shaking it in the air at- well, _no one_ apparently.

He shuffled into the kitchen and flopped in his wooden chair. “I see no one cares.” Dean sighed, loudly… dramatically. 

“Really, Dean?” Sam turned from the stove and pointed the spatula at him. “I’ll bite. What’d ya find?”

Dean pulled a solitary business card from the Ziploc. “It’s from one of Dad’s lockups. Upstate New York. Look.” Dean thrust the crinkled white rectangle into his brother’s hand.

“Castle Storage. 42 Rover Hill, Syracuse.” Sam scoffed. “Huh. Castle on a hill of forty-two dogs. Talk about a literal translation.”

Bobby held his hand out for the paper. “So, you think your daddy had the Michael Sword this whole time? That doesn’t sound like something he’d just keep in lockup.”

“Dad kept all kinds of crazy things in those storage lockers. Cursed objects… Hoodoo… You never knew with him.” Dean remarked. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Well… We should get going then. Gonna be a long drive from here.” Sam turned back toward the stove and began plating breakfast. “Eat first though, Dean.”

**xXxXx**

Dean pulled into a spot a few doors down from Castle Storage. Taking shifts and driving all night still took them twenty-one hours. Dean felt tired. Bone tired. The kind of tired that comes from on the heels of the best sex of your life. The kind that comes after running a marathon. Not that Dean _knew_ what running a marathon was like, but he could assume. 

Sam scoffed at the reference in the message from Chuck. It was one thing to get a prophesy, it was another for it to translate _literally_. He pulled two guns from the trunk of the Impala and passed one over to Dean. “Well, let’s get this over with.”

The two walked through the narrow hallway leading to John’s storage locker. Dean toed the door open further and waved two fingers toward the front and then left. Sam nodded and gestured back with two fingers in a slight ‘v’. Sam slinked in front of his brother and pushed back slightly. “Angels,” He hissed.

“Oh… Thank _God_.” Dean remarked, the sarcastic tone dripping from his words.

“Well… Well… Well…” The door swung closed behind the Hunters. “Did anyone follow you?”

“What?” Sam raised an eyebrow at Zachariah and his _Angel Army_.

“You _do_ know how prophesy works, don’t you?” Zachariah sneered. “We _may_ have planted that little bit of information inside Chuck’s head, but it was the truth. We _had_ lost the Michael Sword.”

Dean cocked his gun.

“Your guns aren’t going to work against us, Dean.” Zachariah replied as he raised his arms gesturing the room. “Or did you forget? _Angels_.”

Zachariah’s sidekicks stepped forward. “But, thank you for hand-delivering it to us.”

Dean shook his head confused. “We don’t have anything.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. It’s you, chuckles. You’re the Michael Sword.” Zachariah boasted. “What? Did you _actually_ think you could kill Lucifer? You’re a simpering wad of insecurity. Filled to the _brim_ with self-loathing. You’re _human_ , Dean. And by the looks of it, not much of one.”

Dean stood still, quiet and confused. His eyebrows scrunched and his mouth pursed. “Huh?”

“It is _obvious_ you didn’t get the brains of the family.” Zachariah turned toward Sam. “Samuel? Care to explain?”

“You’re a vessel.” Sam shrugged his shoulders.

“Not just _any_ vessel. _The_ vessel. Michael’s holy receptacle. It’s a great honour! You’ve been chosen.”

“I’ve always wanted to live life as an Angel Condom. Thanks, but… no thanks. I’ll pass.” Dean rolled his eyes.

Zachariah raised an eyebrow and pointed a single finger at Sam. “Bang.”

A resounding _crack_ echoed through the room. Sam crumpled to the ground screaming as he clutched his left leg.

“You mother _fucking_ son of a bitch!” Dean screamed. He rushed toward Sam and crouched down, running his fingers over the obvious bulge on his calf.

“Keep mouthing off and I’ll break more than his legs. I am completely and _utterly_ through screwing around with you two. The war has begun, Dean. We are missing our General. And in my book? That’s bad. Now… The way I see it. Michael is going to take his vessel, lead his army. You are going to co-operate. He will lead his final charge against the adversary.” Zachariah growled. “No calling in a pinch hitter… No _deals_. You understand me, boy?”

“And, just how many humans are gonna get killed in this so called _Holy War_ of yours? Five million? Twenty million?” Dean groused from Sam’s side, cradling his brother’s lower leg and shushing him.

Zachariah shrugged, his lip curled in disgust. “Probably more. If you allow Lucifer to run around unchecked, maybe just the entire population. He’ll burn the planet to the ground.”

“What, no leaving the 144-Thousand so-called _Chosen_?” Sam inquired through a groan.

Dean stood, his stride broken as he approached the Angels. “You need my consent.” Dean smiled through his _eureka_ moment. “That’s why you’re telling me instead of just setting your _lackeys_ on me. Michael needs my okay to wear me to the Prom.”

“Well,” Zachariah gestured around the room with hands. “You got me there.”

“No.” 

“There is no other way, Dean.” Zachariah smiled, all teeth and gums. “Michael must defeat the Serpent. As it is written…”

“That may be the case,” Dean interjected as Zachariah’s _muscle_ creeped forward. “But… Eat Me.”

“How about this…” Zachariah spit. “You’re dying of Stage-Four Stomach Cancer.”

“Wha-” Dean keeled over on the floor, blood spilling from his mouth. He clutched his abdomen and cried out in pain. He glanced up from the floor and narrowed his eyes at the Angel. “No.”

“Let’s turn it up a notch then, shall we?” Zachariah wandered over toward Sam as he laid in a ball on the floor. He placed a single finger in the middle of Sam’s forehead. “Let’s see how Sam does without his _lungs_.”

Dean turned toward Sam and cringed. Sam gasped and fought for breath. Dean pulled up on his hands and knees and started crawling toward his brother. “Sammy… Hold on.”

“Zachariah laughed. “You’re going to say yes, Dean.”

Dean groaned as he reached Sam’s side. He pulled his brother closer and muttered. “Just kill us already.”

“Kill you?” Zachariah raised an eyebrow. “No, I’m just getting started.”

Dean flopped onto his back and pulled Sam tight. If his Sammy was gonna die _again_ , it would be in his arms. He was prepared. The last time he died, he had been prepared. He would welcome death with open arms this time, especially since Sam was going with him.

A bright light filled the room. Light that burned brighter than a thousand suns. Dean shielded his eyes with one hand and Sam’s with his forearm. There was a thud, and as Dean opened his eyes, a cold, lifeless met his- One of Zachariah’s Angels. The man- Angel… had been _gifted_ with a hole in his throat the size of a quarter. Silver light trickled from the wound. 

“How are you-” Zachariah gasped.

“Alive?” Castiel prompted. “That is a good question. How did these two end up on that airplane? That is another good question. I believe we both know the answer to that question.”

“No.” Zachariah shook his head, visibly shocked. His hands giving away that he wasn’t calm. He whispered. ‘That’s- That’s _not_ possible.”

“You should be scared. Now, put these boys back together and go. I will not tell you twice.” 

Zachariah vanished in a flutter of wings and rot. Sam gasped as he pulled Dean up from the floor.

“You need to be more careful.” Castiel chided.

“Yeah,” Dean shook his head. “I think we’re starting to learn that. Those frat boy friends of yours are _gigantic_ fucking dicks, dude.”

“You are mistaken.” Castiel admonished. “I do not mean the Angels. Lucifer is circling his vessel. Once he has taken possession of that vessel, no hex bag will keep you safe.”

Sam glanced at Dean as he shrugged his shoulders. Castiel stepped into the brother’s shadows and placed a hand on each of their chests. A searing heat enveloped Dean while his ribs felt as if each one had broken and healed in a matter of moments.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Dean yelled.

“Enochian sigils. They will hide you from every Angel in creation, including Lucifer.”

“Even you?” Sam raised an eyebrow, a slight smile playing across his lips.

“Yes.”

“Did you brand us?” Dean’s voice raised. He grabbed at the side of Sam’s shirt and curled his fingers protectively against his brother’s skin.

“No. I carved them into your ribs.” Castiel glanced around the room. His shoulders turned as he moved to leave.

“Hey, Castiel?” Sam tilted his head. “Were you _really_ dead?”

“Yes.” Castiel vanished, the smell of old paper and lighting in his wake.

“Then how are you back?” Dean whispered toward the dead.

**xXxXx**

“You’re the Michael Sword?” Bobby huffed. “What a great way to find out.”

“I know.” Dean handed a beer to Sam and flopped on the couch next to his brother. He needed to be close to Sam. He _had_ almost just lost him. “What I don’t get is why they think that after everything that we’ve been through… I’m what? Just gonna roll over and show my belly?”

Bobby stood from his desk, book in hand and opened to a page in the middle. “An Angel needs permission to take a vessel, unlike a Demon.”

“I gotta just keep saying no then.” Dean tipped back the beer in his hand and swallowed the cold, amber liquid.

“That’s the thing, Dean.” Bobby closed the book and laid it on the table next to Dean’s arm. “They won’t stop. Zachariah already tried to take Sam away from you-”

Dean scoffed. “-”

“No. You listen to me, boy. He already tried to get you to say yes by hurtin’ Sam. What’s gonna stop him from doing worse? They’re _Angels_ , Dean. They know what you get up to in the dark.”

“Um… Bobby.” Sam shifted on the couch uncomfortably. “I really don’t think that we should-”

Bobby turned fully toward Sam. “You think I’m _dumb_? That I don’t know how your brother looks at you like you hung the moon and stars? And if I see it? They sure do.”

“But what if we win?” Dean whispered through the silence.

Sam turned sideways on the couch, his knee pressing tightly against Dean’s thigh.

“I’m _serious_. Fuck the Angels. Fuck the Angels… and the Demons… Fuck their _stupid_ , crap-ass Apocalypse. Shit, if they’re so _gun-ho_ to fight a war, I say ‘Find your own fucking planet’. This one’s ours… It may not be perfect, but _fuck_. I say take ‘em on. We ice the Devil, our terms. Shit, we even kill Michael if we have to. But fuck if I’m gonna be an Angel Condom.”

“And just how in the _ever loving world_ do you think you’re gonna pull that off?” Bobby sighed.

“I got no idea, Bobby. But you know what I’ve got?”

“A head start on liver cirrhosis and an unhealthy obsession with ABBA?” Bobby grumbled.

“Hopefully not crabs.” Sam pleaded.

“What?” Dean snapped at his brother. “No? I got a GED and a give ‘em HELL attitude. I’ll figure something out.”

“You _do_ know there is an ointment for that, right?” Bobby laughed as he stepped from the room.

Dean yelled, his voice lifting. “Bobby!”

Bobby stopped in the doorway to the kitchen and turned slightly. “You are six-ways to Sunday crazy.”

“It has been said.” Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam pushed Dean’s shoulder with his beer bottle in an attempt to get his attention. “You don’t have crabs… Do you?”

“Sam!”


End file.
